“Oh, the usual little ornithological cockatrice—or, rather, cantatrice. Don't ask me, because I won't tell you. I always tell you too much, anyway. Don't I?”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do. Everybody spoils you and so do I.”
“Yes—I am rather in that way, I suppose.”
“What way?”
“Oh—spoiled.”
“Stephen!”
“Yes?”
And in a lower voice: “Please don't say such things—will you?”
“No.”